


One Quintant At A Time

by OperaGoose



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Gay Keith (Voltron), Going Home, M/M, One Day At A Time Fusion, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Slow Burn, mild homophobia, welcome to the family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-04-18 19:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14220285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OperaGoose/pseuds/OperaGoose
Summary: He thunked his head against the wall. “Mami, what the quiznak.”She smacked his shoulder with the back of her palm, “don’t swear at your mother!”“Ow!” He rubbed his arm, feeling his lips drawing together in a pout. “You don’t even know what it means!”“I don’t need to know what it means, it’s all about your tone,” she replied. She turned back to her cooking. “So, what does Keith like to eat for dinner?”He blinked. Twice. “…space goo…?”The Galra has been defeated, and the Paladins of Voltron return to earth. The group refuses to let Keith return to his solitary life in the desert, but when he can't stay with the Holts any longer, Keith is sent to San Fran to stay with Lance's family.They adopt him as their own.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes before you begin to read:  
> I'm an Australian, and all I know about American or Cuban-American culture is from TV, or googling questions that come up. I've chosen to acknowledge that this is strongly influenced by the Netflix series One Day At A Time (which is fantastic and you should all watch it). Any cultural insensitivity is a result of ignorance, and I apologise and welcome a discussion if you find something that strays too far.  
> Also note, I don't speak Spanish, so if there are linguistic faux-pas, I'm happy to be corrected!

“Lanica, this is your Tío Lance.” 

Lance had kept his emotions in check all evening. Even when his Mama wailed. When his Abuelita, refusing to cry, pinched his cheeks and scolded him in the frantically fast Spanish of his childhood: “  Ay, Lanacito, your flawless skin! It will take me _weeks_ of work to get you back to normal. Didn’t they have face masks in space  ?” But this? 

Marco had gotten married shortly before he left for the Garrison. But while he was gone, lost in space, they’d had kids. And the eldest girl had been named after _him_. Lana Maria Isabelle Emily McClain-Alvarez Riera, affectionately known inside the McClain apartment as Lanica. Being introduced to her made him cry. 

In the background, Abuelita scolded him. “Ay, you are _ruining_ your skin!” She said it in her thick Cubano accent, the ‘y’ sounding more like an English ‘j’, and the ‘r’ rolling with her favourite dramatic flare. But her voice was thick with emotion. But she didn’t cry. He’d never seen his Abuelita cry, or with a single pimple, or in pants. 

Lana was four years old, and didn’t seem very interested in “ _another_ uncle, Abuela?” She huffed, and put her headphones on back over her ears. “Now I have nine. That’s too many.” 

She reminded him of Pidge in that moment, and he rubbed tears out of his eyes. But he left her to it. “Mami!” he called into the kitchen, “  you don’t need to cook for me!” 

“Mijo,” she said, her voice fond. “Of course I do. Even if I hadn’t called Luis and Veronica to come back from college to see you, I would cook just for you.” 

“At least let me _help_!” he insisted, trying to make his way into the kitchen. 

“ Ay, no no no,” she pushed him back out. “You’ll ruin the empanadas. You might have been in space for the last five years, but you’re still banned from the kitchen.” 

He forced out a laugh. “That’s okay, Mami,” he said. “I was banned from the kitchen in space too.” 

~*~ 

“Bro, you still have your signed photo of Shiro up on your wall?” Hunk asked, laughing. 

Lance hugged his knees tighter to his chest. “My abuela made my mom keep my room exactly the same.” He gave a really heavy sigh. “How’s Samoa?” 

“It’s great. My moms say hi, and they wanna know when you’re coming to visit.” Hunk yawned, hugging his pillow closer. “So are you going to tell me about your nightmare now?” 

He forced out a laugh. “Hunk, my man,” he said, “can’t a bro just call his bro?” 

“It’s eleven at night here,” Hunk said, “which means it’s three there.” 

Lance avoided his eyes on the screen. “Guess I’m not used to earth time yet.” 

“Your face mask in smudged from crying.” 

He shuddered. “Fine. You caught me.” He rubbed under his eyes. “It’s just… the one about being stuck underwater in Blue again.” 

“The mermaids, or the giant robot anglerfish?” Hunk asked, his voice warm with understanding. 

He shook his head. “Neither. The one where the water is slowly seeping in and I can’t get Blue to respond.” 

Hunk hissed in sympathy. “I have nightmares too,” he said quietly. “Pidge won’t admit it, but I think they do as well.” He shifted. “Are you gonna talk to Doctor Cooper? The Garrison is going to cover all costs of psych—” 

“My mom would kill me,” he mumbled. “We’re Cuban. My abuela didn’t even want to take Veronica to the hospital when she had appendicitis.” 

Hunk sighed. “We saw a lot of stuff out there,” he replied. “You should talk to someone about it.” 

“I’m talking to you about it, aren’t I?” Lance answered. 

“I had to bully you into admitting you’d even had a nightmare,” Hunk pointed out. He sighed. “You can always talk to me, bro. But I still think you should get some help.” 

“Thanks, Hunk,” he replied gently. “I… I feel better now.” He smiled at his friend on the screen. “I’ll let you get some sleep. I have to reapply my face mask.” 

“Goodnight, Lance.” 

“Sweet dreams.” 

~*~ 

When Lance sat down on his computer, Pidge and Hunk were already in the voice chat. He settled his headphones on his head and listened in. “…don’t want to leave him alone while we’re up there.” 

“My moms would be glad to have him,” Hunk replied. “But we’re still in Samoa until the twentieth, and if he doesn’t have a passport to get into Canada, he can’t come here either.” 

“What’s going on?” Lance asked, settling down with his nintendo. He had like three Pokémon games that had been released while they were in space to get through. 

“Keith,” Pidge answered. There was a pause, probably where they were pushing up their glasses. “Dad’s taking us up to Yukon to take part in this new study.” 

“Uh-huh,” he replied. “So?” 

“I don’t have a passport,” Keith’s voice echoed from Pidge’s microphone. 

“So get one,” he pointed out. 

“Right. Thanks Lance. It’s not like we didn’t think of that at all,” Keith muttered. There was footsteps and then the sound of a slamming door. 

“He doesn’t have a birth certificate,” Hunk explained quietly. “You know. Alien mom, born in the middle of the desert.” 

“Oh.” That would make it significantly more difficult. “He can still get one.” 

“Yeah, but it’s a whole thing,” Pidge replied. “He doesn’t want to get into it. We’re only supposed to be gone for a month.” 

“So? Just leave him in the house. It’s not like he’s gonna burn it down.” 

There was an awkward pause, followed by a sigh. “I’ll ask my moms if we can change plans. We’ll figure something out, Pidge.” 

~*~ 

“Ay, Lanacito!” his mama cried, as he came back into the apartment. “You are soaking wet!” 

“It’s raining,” he said, as if that answered everything. 

“You are going to get yourself sick,” she answered, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “And then I will let your abuela drown you in vaporub.” 

“I’ll go have a bath now,” he promised. “But I wanted to enjoy the rain. It doesn’t _rain_ in space, Mami.” 

“Bien,” she replied absently. “Then you can tell me what your friend will like to eat for dinner.” 

He paused in the kitchen doorway, wrinkling up his face and turning to look at him. “Who, Mami?” 

“Your friend Keith,” she replied. “He’ll eat whatever we have while he’s here, but I want to make him feel welcome for his first night.” 

“ What are you talking about? Why is Keith coming to dinner?” He demanded, confused and agitated. 

“Well while you were at North Beach with Lanica and Lessandro, your friend Pidgeon called,” she explained, dusting flour over the kitchen bench. “She—” 

“They,” he corrected quickly. 

“Sí, _they_. – they said that your friend Keith had nowhere to go while the Holts were in Canadá, and your friend Hunk couldn’t take him for another month.” 

“ _So?_ ” 

“Lance!” she scolded. Oh his actual first name. Yikes. “You served in a war together! I wasn’t going to make him stay on his own! What if he has the nightmares like you?” 

He thunked his head against the wall. “Mami, what the _quiznak_.” 

She smacked his shoulder with the back of her palm, “don’t swear at your mother!” 

“Ow!” He rubbed his arm, feeling his lips drawing together in a pout. “You don’t even know what it means!” 

“I don’t need to know what it means, it’s all about your tone,” she replied. She turned back to her cooking. “So, what does Keith like to eat for dinner?” 

He blinked. Twice. “…space goo…?” 

She just gave a deep sigh and shot him a disapproving look. 

~*~ 

Keith looked uncomfortable. Lance didn’t blame him. He was uncomfortable having Keith in his childhood home too. 

Abuelita had immediately pinched his cheeks, babbling away: “  such a handsome boy! I bet you charm all the ladies already. But, ay, that skin! Didn’t Lanacito get his hands on you while he was away?  ” She patted Keith’s cheeks. “  And of course, we have to do something about your hair!” 

“Uh…” He glanced at Lance for help. 

“Abuelita, Keith doesn’t speak Spanish,” he said, grabbing the sleeve of the red jacket and tugging him free of her clutches. 

“Why you no teach him Spanish, Lance?” She asked disapprovingly. 

“He’s from _Texas_!” he cried, as if that explained everything. 

“Then he’s basically Mexican,” she argued. 

“I’m… I’m _Korean_ ,” Keith said weakly. 

“Do you speak Korean?” Abuelita pressed. 

“Well… no…” 

“  Ay! Kids these days. They never learn their mother tongues! Well, it’s his mother’s fault really. She should have taught him.  ” 

“Krolia didn’t speak Korean either,” Lance replied. He tugged on the red sleeve. “Come on. I’ll show you to the room you’ll be staying in.” 

Keith didn’t even argue, which probably just went to show how overwhelmed he was. “So… that’s your grandma?” He asked, as Lance pulled open the door to Luis and Marco’s old bedroom. 

“Yeah,” he said, pushing Keith into the bedroom in front of him. 

“She’s a bit…” He faltered, as if trying to figure out how to phrase it without sounding insulting. “Anyway, what was she saying about me?” He rubbed his cheeks where she’d been pinching. 

“That you needed a facial, and a haircut.” He grinned, leaning on the door frame. “Which _I’ve_ been telling you for five years.” 

“So that’s where you get it from.” He huffed and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m sorry about this. Pidge and Mrs McClain organized everything and—” 

“Alvarez.” 

“Huh?” 

“My mom. She’s Alvarez. Well, Señora Alvarez de McClain if you’re being formal. But if you’re going to call her Mrs, it’s Mrs Alvarez.” 

Keith looked exhausted. “Right… anyway…” She sighed. “They organized it all together and then Pidge shipped me off on a bus. I know you didn’t want me here. I’ll stay out of your way.” 

“Dude,” Lance said, shaking his head. “That is so not how my family works. You won’t even be _able_ to hide in your room all day.” He shrugged and stood. “I’ll bring the rest of your bags up. Why don’t you have a nap? You look grumpier than usual.” 

Keith shot him a tired glare at that last part, but patted the backpack hanging off his shoulder. “This is it, I don’t have any more bags.” 

Lance stared at him in disbelief. “You’re here for a _month_ , why didn’t you bring all your clothes?” 

“I… did?” Keith replied uncertainly. “My stuff just fits in this bag.” 

“… _dude_.” He shook his head. “Well… don’t let Abuelita take you shopping. There’s room in the closet to hang up your stuff. I’ll yell for you when dinner is ready.” 

-+- 

The Alvarez-McClain household was… loud. And intense. He’d always thought Lance was the mouthiest person he knew, Coran being a close second, but it was almost scary to think he was the _quiet_ one in his family. 

As promised, the family didn’t _let_ Keith stay alone in his room. He did managed to get an hour or so of fitful, restless sleep, but almost every minute after that, Keith was expected to be _out_ , being part of the conversation, the family life. Even though half the time he couldn’t _understand_ what was being said. They yelled at each other in frantic, accented Spanish, and most of the time Lance was too busy being part of it to translate for him. 

At least the Holts spoke English. When they weren’t speaking science technobabble. 

Eventually, they let him go to bed. He curled up on the bed, and didn’t even try to sleep. He plugged his phone in to charge and powered out a few levels of Candy Crush. It was way too quiet in the house. 

He got up around two in the morning, shuffling out towards the kitchen so he could get a glass of water. He could hear abuelita’s snoring from one of the rooms along the hallway. He grabbed a dry slice of bread too, quelling the gurgle of hunger in his stomach. 

On his way back, he heard a panicked whimper from the closed door of a bedroom. Lance’s room. 

Concerned, he cracked the door open and stuck his head in. Lance was lying in the bed, comforter kicked down to the foot of the mattress. His body was full of tension, skin shiny with sweat, hands clawed into the sheets. He was breathing hard, and as Keith watched, another whimper escaped his lips. 

Sighing, he put down his glass of water and crossed to the bed. Carefully, he sat down on the mattress. “Lance,” he called quietly, “hey, Sharpshooter. Wake up.” 

Lance jolted upright, eyes flying open. A pair of earbuds fell out of his ears. “Who—” Carefully, he reached up to slide his eyemask up, bleary eyes focusing on him. “Keith…?” 

“Lance.” 

The blue paladin squinted at him. “What’s going on? Why are you in my room?” 

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I thought I heard you. You were having a nightmare.” 

Lance rubbed at his eyes, face mask cracking as he wrinkled up his face into a scowl. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” He demanded, instead of replying to Keith’s comment. 

He shrugged and got up to grab his drink of water. “I can’t really sleep,” he replied. “I haven’t really _slept_ since we landed.” 

Lance looked at him, concerned. “Oh.” He shifted restlessly. “Well… I’ve gotta go… reapply my face mask. You could… I mean, I could give you one too. Abuelita would approve.” 

He considered it for a moment, and then shrugged. Lance had never offered to do a face mask while they were in space, though he had invited Allura and Pidge along for spa days after a particularly hard mission. Sure, Lance had insulted his skin and told him to _cleanse and moisturise, Mullet!_ — but he’d never actually offered to give him one. 

He was _lonely_ , Keith realized. And there was no one else awake for him to bother. “…yeah, sure,” he said, shrugging. 

Lance beamed at him and stood up off the bed, “come on then, Mullet.” 

-+- 

Keith looked up from his phone when he sensed someone standing in front of him. He looked up… and then down until he caught sight of a little kid in pigtails. “Uh. Hi.” 

She frowned at him, narrowing her eyes. “Are you my uncle?” She demanded suspiciously. 

“Huh? No!” He shook his head vehemently. “I’m Lance’s…friend.” 

Her face transformed into a smile. “Good. I’m Lanica.” 

“L-Lanica,” he repeated, confused about why this was happening. 

“Lana Maria Isabella Emily McClain-Alvarez Riera,” she declared proudly. 

…why did she have _so many_ names? “Keith,” he replied uncertainly. 

“Keith,” she echoed, and looked at him expectantly. 

“Keith Kogane,” he finished. 

“That’s it?” She asked, staring at him. 

“…yes?” 

She laughed. “You’ve got a cute name! It’s so small!” 

His… name was small? “Okay.” 

After that short conversation, she apparently decided that he was her personal friend. She made him come along with her everywhere, and even forced him to sit down to a tea party with her and a pair of china-faced dolls. He had to sit next to her at dinner, squashed between her and Lance. 

“Keith,” Lance’s grandmother said, cooing at him. “You’re so good with children! Are you serious with your girlfriend at the moment?” 

He felt panic settling in his chest, internal screaming beginning inside his mind. “Uhhh…” He looked at Lance for help. “I don’t have a girlfriend…?” 

“Abuelita,” Lance complained, and said something to her in his liquid, accented Spanish. 

She rolled her eyes and answered him, before turning his attention back to Keith. “I’m going to set you up with a gorgeous Cubano princess, who you can marry and start a big family with!” 

The internal screaming only kicked up a notch – louder and higher pitched. “Uh…” He glanced around them. “I’m…” Lance’s foot stamped down on his, and he winced, but it still slipped out: “gay.” 

There was an uncomfortable silence that suddenly draped over the whole room. …quiznak. 

And then they all started talking, fast and loud, in Spanish. He curled up more and more on himself. How quickly could he pack his thing and get a bus? The Holt house was still locked up, but he still owned the shack out in the desert. 

He had money. They did interviews and stuff when they came back to earth, he’d stashed it away in a bank account and never touched it. The Holts wouldn’t let him pay board to stay with them, and he still hadn’t tracked down his old bike to buy it back. 

(Pidge had suggested just buying a new one, but he just looked at her and said ‘ _Rover_ ’, and she didn’t mention it again.) 

“Abue _liii_ ta!” Lanica complained, huffing. “I can’t understand you! Speak English!” 

“¿Por qué no hablas Español?” Abuelita replied impatiently. “Your mother should teach you.” 

Keith glanced at Lance uncertainly, whose face was carefully pursed, flush high in his cheeks. “Should… I leave?” 

“You haven’t finished your dinner,” Mrs Alvarez scolded. “You’re too skinny. Do you want more ropa vieja?” 

“No, I’m fine…” 

Lance’s abuelita didn’t speak, but picked up the bowl of shredded beef and scooped more onto his plate, muttering her disapproval under her breath in Spanish. 

The rest of the dinner was awkward. He didn’t look up from his plate the whole time. They talked around him, but he didn’t even concentrate long enough to tell what language they were talking in. Once he was finished, he thanked them for dinner and got up to wash his plate in the sink. 

He retreated back to the bedroom and started folding up his clothes back into his duffle bag. He unplugged his phone and stuffed the charger into his bag after it. He crawled out onto the fire escape, shoes in hand and bag slung over his back. 

He sat on the stairs to put his shoes on and yank the laces tight. 

“So, were you planning on saying goodbye, or…?” 

He jolted up and saw Lance, sitting on the other end of the fire escape. He had his arms folded across his chest, staring him down. “Lance.” 

He stood up properly. “Why?” 

“Because your family flipped out when I said I was gay,” he replied. “It’s only a matter of time before they kick me out.” 

“Seriously?” Lance asked, raising his eyebrows. “Assume much?” 

“They started yelling as soon as I told them! You stomped on my foot!” he pointed out, clenching his fists tightly. 

“Pendejo!” Lance said, reaching up to poke him in the forehead. “You don’t _speak_ Spanish.” 

“So?” 

“So, mami and abuelita were _actually_ talking about whether to set you up with someone from the church, or whether we should call Luis and get one of his friends to come down from San Pablo to take you out.” 

“… _what_?” He asked, confused. 

Lance poked him in the forehead again. “Luis is gay, I’m openly bi. They’re not going to kick you out.” 

“…oh.” He froze up, not sure what to say. 

“Wait,” Lance said quietly. “Is that the Keith Kogane Tragic Anime Backstory?” 

“I’m Korean. It’s my Tragic Aeni Backstory.” 

Lance gave a soft laugh and shook his head. 

He folded his arms. “I got kicked out of a lot of foster homes,” he mumbled. “I didn’t really have a stable home environment… ever.” 

Lance slung an arm over his shoulder and hugged him close, rubbing his knuckle against the crown of his hair. “Well. You can share mine.” He stepped away and gave Keith an easy-going smile. “Come on. Abuelita said I had to bring you to play dominoes.” 

He ducked back into the kitchen window, shooting fingerguns at Keith before he disappeared through the frame. 

He looked after him for a moment, before letting a soft smile cross his face and heading back into the bedroom. 


	2. 2

“Mami!” Lance yelled from his bedroom. “Where is my white tee with the blue collar?” 

“What?” She yelled from the kitchen. 

“My white t-shirt, with the blue collar! I can’t find it!” He shouted, tearing through the pile of laundry. 

“Ask your abuela!” 

He’d checked all the clean, folded laundry abuelita had left in his room. He’d also checked Keith’s laundry, but Keith only had four t-shirts and a pair of jeans and sweats, and nothing white at all. (That guy seriously needed to go shopping.) Now he was forced to check through the dirty laundry instead. His abuelita didn’t usually mess up the colours, but there was a first time. 

Huffing, he kicked everything back into a loose pile and then headed out to the living room. "Abuelita!” he called. “ Where’s my t-shirt? The white one—” 

“With the blue collar,” she repeated, “ yes, Lanacito, I heard.” She was sitting at the kitchen table, slicing vegetables. “ It was covered in holes, I put it in the rag pile.” 

He tensed. “You threw….my shirt… in the rag pile.” 

“Yes, Lanacito. It was five years old,” she replied, looking up at him. “Why are you upset?” 

Lance ignored her, opening the cupboard and shifting through the tub of rags until he found his tee. “Don’t touch my things, abuelita!” he shouted, and then stomped off to his room. 

It was a few moments until the door opened and someone stepped in. When he eventually looked up, Keith was standing in the doorway, a paper bag held in his arms. 

“What do you want, Mullet?” 

Keith just took a deep breath. “Can I sit down?” He asked quietly. 

“It’s a free country,” he muttered. 

Keith came over and sat down on the very edge of the bed. Silently, he set the bag down between them and opened it up, carefully taking out a folded bundle of cloth. Of red and white, specifically. 

“What’s that?” Lance asked, confused. 

“It’s my jacket,” he answered. He unfolded it carefully… and it was. The red and white jacket he’d been wearing when they went to space. The left arm was completely missing, from an accident they’d had a few years into saving the universe. 

“You… you didn’t throw this out?” Lance asked, carefully reaching over to finger the torn edge of the shoulder. 

“No,” he replied quietly. He pointed to the bunched white fabric in Lance’s grip. “That’s the shirt you wore, right?” He asked in a gentle, understanding voice. 

And then he realised, like it burst to life in his mind. Keith _got it_. He _understood_. He fingered the torn shoulder of the red jacket. The fabric was surprisingly soft. It was synthetic, built to survive the harsh desert environment and riding the motorbike. He brushed his fingers up one direction, then down the other. 

“She didn’t even ask me,” he murmured. 

“I’m sure she doesn’t understand,” Keith replied gently. “She didn’t mean it badly.” 

“She still has my abuelo’s old shirts, just in case we need them,” he grumbled. “She gets it.” 

“Yeah, but are those shirts worn out and raggedy?” Keith teased, poking one of the holes in the shoulder. 

“Well, no…” 

“It’s okay,” Keith reassured him, beginning to fold the jacket back up to tuck back into the paper bag. “One day I’m sure we’ll be able to let go,” he murmured. “But until then…” He gave Lance a weak, half-smile. “Well. I’ll keep carting around a one-sleeved jacket at the bottom of my duffle.” 

Lance watched him quietly exit the room. He took a deep breath and lay back on the bed. At least he had Keith. He paused at that thought, wrestled with a moment to try and figure out if it was _too much_. But then he shrugged it off and lay back down. Nah. He was glad to have Keith around. 

~*~ 

“Come on, Sharpshooter,” Keith called from the door, “if there’s traffic, we’re going to miss our flight!” And this was San Fran. There was always traffic. 

“Ay, Keith, relax!” Lance yelled back. He came around the corner of the hallway, loaded down with bags. “I’m ready, I had to repack my beauty bag into my checked luggage ‘cause the bottles were too large and I don’t wanna have to buy my precious skincare products when we’re in Honolulu. I don’t wanna break my bank.” 

Keith just impatiently took a couple of the bags off him. “Come on. Marco is already waiting in the car.” 

Once they were waiting in line at the baggage check-in, Keith turned to Lance, a slight frown pinching at his brows. “What happened to the money you got from the Garrison?” 

Okay, Keith made some weird mental leaps sometimes, but Lance couldn’t even _guess_ about that one. “Where’d that come from?” He asked. 

“You said getting your face shit in Honolulu would break your bank,” Keith replied. 

“Ah.” That was like… an hour ago. “Have you been hanging on to that question the whole car trip?” 

“I didn’t want to make it awkward asking in front of your family,” he replied, lips pursed slightly. “And I’ll ask again if you keep avoiding the question.” 

Lance heaved a sigh, bags suddenly feeling heavier under his hands. “It’s not like it’s _all gone_ ,” he mumbled, avoiding Keith’s far-too-observant eyes. “I’ve got enough left to be comfortable for the next few years,” he commented. 

“ _Lance_.” 

He sighed again, shuffling forward as the line moved. “A big chunk of it was my student loans,” he mumbled. “I wasn’t on a scholarship like you or Shiro or the Holts. The Garrison isn’t _cheap_ , and they wouldn’t waive my loan. Mom tried her best to raise us, but there was never money left for college funds. After that… well, Abuela had some medical bills for a heart attack she had while I was gone. We didn’t have insurance, so…” He shrugged. He couldn’t help but feel it was his going missing that gave her the heart attack. “Then I paid off Mom’s car, put down a year of rent.” 

Keith’s puckered brow and occasionally shifting eyes told him that he was doing mental calculations. 

Lance put down the bags in his right hand and gently punched Keith’s shoulder. “Leave the math to Pidge,” he said quietly. “I promise, I even got Hunk to help me with a budget. I’m good for at _least_ two years, if I don’t go crazy and buy something big like a car. Three if I’m thrifty. It gives me plenty of time to find a decent job.” 

Keith’s lips pursed, but he didn’t say anything. They shuffled forward in the line until he spoke again. “I thought you and Hunk were friends before the Garrison,” he commented. 

“We were. We’ve known each other since Middle School,” Lance replied, nodding. 

“But he lives in American Samoa and Hawaii, and you’re in California.” 

Lance nodded. “Yeah. We met in Cuba, actually,” he replied. “Before Ma moved to Cali. He and his moms came to Varadero on vacation a couple years in a row. Then when we had to leave Cuba, they let us stay with them in Cali.” He rubbed a hand through his hair, nudging his bags along with his feet and wishing he’d thought to fork out for a luggage trolley. “It takes a special kind of people to open their one-bedroom apartment to six mostly illegal immigrants who barely speak English while my mom tried to track down my dad to sign on for citizenship stuff.” 

Keith swung his own bag onto his shoulder and reached across to put his hand on Lance’s shoulder and give it a firm squeeze. 

Lance smiled at him gratefully a moment, then looked away. “The Mrs Maivias are the best people in the world,” he replied. “They had to move out of Samoa, so they could get married,” he explained. “They moved to Honolulu when Hunk went to the Garrison.” 

Their conversation paused while they checked their baggage and moved through security – Lance clenched his jaw a little when they unzipped his make-up bag to check if his moisturizer was under 3 ounces but said nothing. But by the time they were sat in the departure lounge, phones out to avoid making eye contact with anyone, Keith had felt like talking again. 

“How do you say it? My-va?” Keith asked uncertainly. 

Lance’s lips twitched up in a slight smile. “Close. Maivia, two vowel sounds in the second part,” he replied. “La’ei and Arihi Maivia.” 

Keith nodded and Lance helped him repeat the words until he got it right. 

~*~ 

La’ei smelled, like she always did, of frangipanis. She shook hands firmly with Lance, smiling and giving him a boisterous “mālō!” before tugging him into a warm hug. They were already draped in leis from the flight attendants in the terminal when they disembarked, and she tugged the two about his neck with a fond smile. “Did you charm the hostess?” 

He grinned. “Of course not. I’m just _naturally_ charming.” 

She laughed, and her eyes wandered over to Keith, who was looking at his feet. 

Lance nudged him forward. “This is Keith.” 

She smiled and offered her hand forward to shake. “Mālō le soifua,” she greeted. She didn’t pull _him_ into a hug, but Lance thought Keith was probably glad of that. He’d had the full Alvarez goodbye experience last night, he’d probably been hugged enough to last a lifetime. 

Keith shook it, giving her a brief moment of eye contact. “Nice to meet you, Mrs Maivia.” 

She chuckled. “He’s a shy one, isn’t he Lance?” 

Her broad biceps flexed as she took over the luggage trolley, pushing it towards the exit. “Did you need to go to Duty Free before we leave the airport?” She asked Lance. 

He shook his head. “Nah. I packed better this time.” 

Everything outside was so green – the air tasted of greenery and rain and flowers. They had gone around the universe, and Lance had never seen a place like Oahu. He hung out the window, breathing in the air, pointing out all sorts of gorgeous sights for Keith as they drove. 

They only drove for half an hour, but Lance was already restless as they pulled up to the small house. He climbed out, stretching and grinning as Hunk ran out. “Lance!” 

“Hunk, my bestest buddy in the whole world!” And then he received what he’d been missing since they parted at the airport three months ago – the best hug in the whole world. There was no one in the entire universe who gave hugs as good as Hunk, although his mom was a very close second. 

He clung on as long as possible, before La’ei yelled at Hunk to help bring in the bags. 

Hunk spared a moment or two to give Keith a brief hug, but then he started to pick up Lance’s bags. Keith had already swung his own bag over his shoulder. 

“Come on in,” Hunk said, beaming as he led them up to the front door. “Mom has a pig on the umu, I hope you brought your appetite!” 

-+- 

Keith couldn’t sleep. The sounds of the night outside were in symphony of the sounds of the others sleeping in the room around him. Lance had failed to explain that the whole family slept in one big, open room. Even with the airflow, it was too hot. He didn’t even have bedsheets – both of Hunk’s moms had offered to get some for him, but he declined. The air felt too close, sticky instead of the dry air of Nevada. San Fran had probably been this humid, but it wasn’t as _hot_. 

Hunk’s snoring was a familiar sound, his moms’ weren’t. 

Ugh, he couldn’t do this. 

He sat up, wincing as his bones clicked as they settled back into place. Beside him, Lance’s eyes opened. They tracked him as he headed through the main room into the kitchen, and by the time he had a glass of water, Lance was standing by the door. “Can’t sleep?” 

“It’s so hot,” he complained. 

Lance laughed a little. “Remind me not to take you to Cuba then,” he said. He rubbed his eyes. “I mean, it’s barely eight in Cali. We’d still be up playing dominos at this point.” 

Keith sighed. “Yeah. I guess.” Not that he ever got much sleep while he was staying with the Alvarezes anyway. Or the Holts. Or… ever, really. Sleeping was hard back on Earth. 

“Hey,” Lance said softly, smiling at him. “Why don’t we try something?” 

He frowned, confused. “Try what?” 

“Let me give you a face mask.” 

“No,” he interrupted immediately. 

“Here me out, Keith!” Lance insisted. “I’ve got some night time face masks. There’s evening primrose oil in the mask, it’ll help you calm down and relax to sleep.” 

Keith gave a tired, resigned sigh. They’d already done it once, he guessed. He refused to believe that it had actually done anything for his skin, but it had been… well, not exactly _nice_. But it had been a kind of bonding moment. And letting Lance soothe the strange goop on his skin hadn’t exactly been _un_ pleasant. 

“Fine,” he said. “It’s better than nothing.” 


End file.
